Men's Hygiene - Bathroom horror stories

First of all, I agree with everything the previous women have said on this topic. I would also like to add that dirty, stained, worn shoes with holes and no socks are a turn off.

For me, a big hygiene turn off is the filthy, stinking, dark caves that most men seem to live in. There is so much I could say, but I will stick with the worst area, by far (always): The bathroom! {insert scary music here} I have never met a man's bathroom that I haven't been traumatized by.

Off target boy
You were such a nice guy, but you have no aim. There was always a sea of yellow around the base of the toilet. It was always a new pattern, because the shower would leak water so it would get wet and swirl around and dry in a new shape. You were the first to inspire me to started wearing skirts on dates so that I wouldn't have to lower my pants into that stinky pool. It was such fun to get the bottoms of my shoes covered in that though, and track it around your house, and then mine.

And you were so hairy and never emptied the hair-catcher in your shower. I have never seen such a fuzzy bathtub. I can still picture all that black fur swirling around when the water was running. Thanks for the memories!

Remodel man
Your excuse is that you were remodeling. Yet in all the months we dated, other rooms took shape but your bathroom never changed. Using that room was such a unique experience.

First, there was the way I got to share any noises with the rest of the house. There was a "window" to the hall and living room through the hole where a doorknob should be and a slice-of-bread-sized hole into the bedroom.

Then there was the fact that there was no seat on the toilet. This was a point of contention between us, with me threatening and begging you by turns. I developed strong legs muscles as I would precariously balance over the toilet, holding myself up with one hand on the side of the tub and one on the side of the sink.

Or, I would bring use those little individually wrapped antibacterial hand wipes that I started carrying with me in my purse at all times. Of course, even when clean, it is not fun to sit directly on the rim of the bowl. Cold and hard and narrow. I got bruises on my butt where those two bones end.

With everything else, it hardly bothered me that the sink didn't work and I had to go into the kitchen and mount a search and rescue mission for liquid dish soap to wash my hands.

Supply thief
You had the cleanest house of any man I ever dated. Your bathroom appeared reasonably clean at first glance. Hooray! Ah, how naive of me to think that just this once, it would be different. Your bathroom wasn’t filthy, but it was booby-trapped! For when I was ready to reach for the toilet paper, there was none! I was helplessly stranded. Couldn't get off the seat without dripping. Straining, reaching, trying to search in drawers and cupboards, getting increasingly panicky. One of the grossest experiences of my life. Finally turned on the faucet and tried to make the best of it. And of course, no soap. (and no towel, or I would have already used that.) You had NOTHING in that bathroom except 20 disposable razors and a Costco jug of Lubriderm.

You forever changed me, and for that I will always be grateful. I have never again lowered my panties since that day without first confirming the availability of toilet paper, soap, hot water, and towels.

And of course, I never wanted to touch you again after that. You obviously don't wash your hands after! Or wipe yourself! Or your dick. Ever! Ew.

Spider man
I am so sorry I ever slept with you. It was great, but since it was a hot day, I needed a shower afterwards. Your only working shower was in the downstairs bathroom, so off I went.

First problem: No clean surfaces or hooks or anywhere to put the towel or my clothes. Then, the door to the shower did not shut all the way. And, I had to share the shower with a small army of spiders. It was impossible to wash the spiders down the drain because the shower head was fixed, and the drain cover had holes too tiny to admit even the smallest drowned spider corpse. (These were honking big spiders.) So, said a little prayer that the spiders would stay on the walls and not get wet and tried to hurry.

However, it is impossible to hurry when the showerhead has as much water pressure as a drooling baby. It was more like a misty day in the woods. Took five minutes for the moisture from the upper atmosphere to make it down to the lower regions. Whatever, I was leaving. The spiders were getting increasingly friendly.

Stepping out was fun. I had laid out some squares of paper towel to step on to protect my feet from the filth-encrusted floor. However, since the shower door didn’t shut, they were wet. And slimy and gray.

Then, I noticed another problem. It had taken me so long to accomplish anything in the mist-shower that dusk had fallen. The bathroom was now getting quite dark. I checked the switch. Click-click. Nothing. Examined the light fixture, no bulb! Lovely. Now I am wet, dripping, and cold inside a dark, filthy bathroom. With lots of spiders.

I am so sorry I ever slept with you.

Cologne freak
What is with your love affair with cologne? I was coughing and choking since the day we first met. I was brave enough to gently comment on it, and you promised to cut back. It did get better.

Then came the day on our fourth date when I tried to use the bathroom at your place. As soon as I entered, my eyes began to water and my nostrils began to burn. What the hell had you done in there? It smelled like you had mopped the floor with cologne! Recently. I could also smell after shave and Irish Spring. The air was heavy and cloying. Looking around, I could see that there was no ventilation. I almost turned to leave, but I had to go so bad.

So I poked my head out the door, took a deep breath of clean oxygen, and plunged back inside. Frantically trying to undo my pants and whip them down. Colapsing on the toilet, I was already getting light-headed. I grabbed a toothpaste-spit encrusted hand towel and jammed it in my face to breathe through. Quickly, quickly, can't stay in here much longer....

Finally, I'm flush. I've already decide to wash my hands in the kitchen. But then, the toilet won't flush. I'm getting a headache now. Finally, I hold down the handle the whole time and it flushes!

Free at last, I escape into the sweet, fresh air of your dank apartment.

The King of filth
You, sir, have earned a special place in my Bathroom Horrors Hall of Fame. Your bathroom was the most noxious hell-hole I have ever encountered, bar none. The first time, I came, I saw, I fled in terror. I just held it until I got home. (Did you wonder why I left early?)

The next time, you said that you had cleaned. You had not. I did venture to wash my hands. (Had to fetch soap from the shower. Do you never wash your hands or never use soap?) Gentle CL readers, I cannot even begin to describe the filth. And disrepair. You wouldn't believe me if I could.

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Someday I will meet Mr. Right. I will have no doubt that he is the man for me. It will be so easy to identify him. He will be the guy with the clean bathroom.